Escapism
by ZackSkylar
Summary: Reality and make believe. Is it wrong to make up something better to escape a horrible reality? Myrtle spends most of her life shut up in her room, not able to leave. While there she notices the boy whose mother died, Oliver, running around with a big book, his stuffed toy and a stick. He is smiling. Why? AU. If the other world was a fantasy that Oliver uses as a coping mechanism.
1. Prologue: The boy with the stuffed bird?

"Have you heard about that boy Oliver?" Someone was gossiping outside of the window. Myrtle couldn't bring herself to move today, she couldn't bear to look even go to peek out of the window. She instead listened to the murmurs from out of her window.

"Oh yes, that poor boy, losing his mother like that. He must be heart broken."

"I know. Leila has taken him in for now, but he refuses to leave Ali's home. Apparently he's locked himself in his room and won't eat a thing."

"Poor boy."

"I know."

Did they actually care? Myrtle knew that these women weren't the sort that would do anything to help, they would just talk about it loudly and sound like they were compassionate. Myrtle knew this all too well, as that boy wasn't the first child that they had talked about. She sighed. She wasn't any better though. She would listen to the world from the comfort of her room. It meant that she knew more about the people in Motorville, and she had learnt how to determine what was truthful or not. But she couldn't do anything with the information. She couldn't talk to anyone about it. Not even…especially not her parents.

Her father was at work. She could tell because it was quiet downstairs, no one was shouting. Her father was working all the time to ensure they could pay for Myrtle's medical care while living comfortably, but it put a lot of strain on her parent's relationship. Her mother loved him and kept on trying, but the stress of everything being on his shoulders was becoming too much for the man and this lead to him lashing out – all because of her.

She hid her face under her pillow. She didn't want to think about it, but she knew it was the truth. Everything that was going wrong was her fault, and she could do nothing about it. Well, she could, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Selfish.

Time passed and these thoughts continued to run through Myrtle's head. Eventually the sun started to set. Myrtle now felt a little bit better so walked over to her window and started to stare out of it. It was then that she saw him, the boy. Oliver. Obviously he had left his home; she wouldn't have seen him otherwise. Also for some reason he seemed…happy? The boy was running through the street with a heavy looking book and a stuffed…animal? It looked like a bird maybe? But it just had arms and legs, not wings. The boy seemed to be looking for something.

Myrtle continued to watch until the boy picked up a stick off of the ground. He then seemed to be talking to someone, but she couldn't hear what he was saying. Was he talking to his toy? He was talking to something but no one was around. Maybe he had gone a bit…Myrtle didn't want to think about that. Either way he seemed to be doing ok. He was smiling as he ran off with the stick and out of the view of the window. Either way who was she to judge him for talking to himself. At least he was able to go outside. At least he was able to smile…

She walked away from the window. Some part of her wished that she could go and chase after the boy, find out what he was doing. But she knew that she couldn't, she wouldn't. She could only imagine and hope that he was all right, whatever he was doing.

However she would see the boy again, and not from her window. In two days time her part in the adventure would begin.

**Author's Note: Hello! Hope that you've gotten something out of this chapter (I wouldn't really say enjoy, it's a bit depressing XD). I'm writing this story based on a concept that I thought about while playing through the game that actually everything that is happening in it is a figment of Oliver's imagination and is his way of dealing with his Mother's death. So it is going to be a bit depressing in places, but hopefully will also be fun seeing what happens with certain characters who pop up along the way. I hope you continue to read! I'll try to write more and have some fun with this. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 1 - The broken hearted girl

Author's Note: Hi all! First off, wanted to apologise. I am pretty bad at updating. However all the paper that favourite and follow my stuff makes me really happy, so I want to update a bit for all of you guys - so thank you for that :D I am not working on this story much at the moment, but it is a fun idea so I will try to do some stuff with it in the future.

Thank you very much and hope you enjoy!

It was two days later when Myrtle was staring out of her window. She first heard the boy. He was downstairs trying to get into the house. Myrtle wasn't going to let him in, and no one else was in. So he would just be trying with vain. Eventually she thought she heard him leave, but then he came back and somehow the door was open and he was coming up the stairs. Myrtle decided not to panic, the boy may talk to himself, run around with a stick and his toy chasing after cats and other things, but he didn't seem dangerous.

She had seen the boy a few times now, and had thought about how she would respond to him. She had decided that if he was living in some sort of fantasy world, then it was probably best to support him in it. Goodness knows how much grief and sadness is going on in his head, Myrtle could at least talk to him about his fantasies rather than reject them. That seemed to be what Leila was doing and it seemed like the kind thing to do.

"Who are you?" Myrtle asked, turning from her window towards the boy who was edging into the room slowly. He had changed his clothes at some point yesterday, and was now wearing a red cape over a blue and white long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of three-quarter length white trousers. His red hair was a mess, but fitted the hero look that he seemed to be going for.

"My name's Oliver. Don't worry, I'm not crazy." Myrtle suppressed the urge to comment on this, "I'm kid from right here in Motorville, just like you."

"I know. I've seen you." Myrtle commented. "You have?" The boy seemed surprised, so Myrtle thought that she'd best explain her situation to him, even though he probably already knew.

"I'm sick. I can't leave this room. If I go outside…it hurts. So all I can do is look out at the world from my window." Myrtle explained. Doing so hurt her more than she expected. She hadn't talked to anyone except her parents in such a long time; she thought that it would be more logical, more like how the conversations were in her head. But saying it out loud effected her on a deeper level, made it all much more…real.

The boy then pulled his toy up "That's why they call her Starey Mary." He exclaimed in a lower-pitched voice with a slight Jamaican accent while shaking the toy. Myrtle felt a bit of anger grow inside of her. "Shhh". He said to his toy in his normal voice. "Don't worry mun. No one can hear me by here. I can talk as loud as I want!" He was shouting now. She didn't want him to carry on, so she decided that it was best to show him that she could still hear him.

"Yes. That's why they call me Starey Mary." She muttered. The boy let out a sound of shock; he really was stuck in his own fantasy world.

"Crickey! Can she hear me?" He said in the accent again.

"That's what they call me around here. But you knew that already…huh?" She explained. She believed that the boy was nice inside, but even nice people can do mean things if they don't understand what they are doing.

"U-uh. I…"

"I bet you think I'm weird, don't you?" She asked, tears starting to form in her eyes. This was not what she expected to happen at all.

"No! I-I don't."

"It's ok. I don't mind. You should go, before my father comes home." She stayed facing the window, not allowing him to see her cry. She knew that he wasn't meaning to hurt her, but words still hurt and she was vulnerable as it was.

"Oi, come here a sec." The accent had started again, he was whispering but she could still hear every word. "This is proper weird. I've looked as hard as I know how, but she doesn't seem sick at all. She's as fit as a fiddle, in fact!" She let out a gasp, how could he say… Why would he say… "You mean…you can tell?" "I'm Lord High Lord of the Fairies en't I? Course I can tell!" Lord High Lord of the…what? "So what is wrong with her?" "Well, whatever sickness she had might be gone, but something's still got a hold over the pooer dab." She couldn't take this anymore. She needed him to go.

"What is it?" She asked, trying to hide how upset she was.

"Oh, ummm…nothing. I'm gonna come see you again, ok Myrtle?"

"Huh?"

"Well, if you can't leave your room. I'll come to you instead. That way, we can be friends. How does that sound?" The boy's smile was sweet. This was the first person that said that he would be a friend to her in such a long time. Even if he was obnoxious, rude, possibly a cruel narcissist, this was one of the most wonderful things that Myrtle had heard for a long time. But she knew that it couldn't be a reality.

"Oliver…you can't…"

"Huh?"

"My father won't allow it. You should leave."

"But Myrtle…" The boy seemed sad about this. Myrtle stayed facing the window and after a minute he got the message and he left, leaving Myrtle alone in her room. When the door downstairs shut, she collapsed onto her bed and held her pillow up to her face trying to hide in it. She didn't understand what had just happened, what she had just let happen, she needed time to understand what the boy had said.

She was confused. It was all so confusing. This boy had said those things, things that had somehow hit hard into her. When she was in her room she thought for a long time that words were just words for her, they didn't have any effect on her anymore. Of cause she knew that words hurt, she had heard enough of her parents' arguments, she had listened to enough gossipy women outside of her window, but when she heard something about herself it didn't phase her anymore. She knew what people thought about her, she knew how _sorry_ they were. She knew how worried her parents were and she knew how angry her father was. She knew that it was because of her. She knew.

But now there was this boy who had said something that continued to echo through her.

"I've looked as hard as I know how, but she doesn't seem sick at all. She's as fit as a fiddle, in fact!" Revolved in her head followed by, "Well, whatever sickness she had might be gone, but something's still got a hold over the pooer dab."

Something in her, something deep inside knew that it was true, but she hadn't wanted to face that. She continued to believe that she was sick. Her parents had continued to believe that she was sick. She knew that she was healed now, she had known for a long time, but she couldn't leave. A bigger part of her was screaming that when she thought. She couldn't leave! She couldn't, because if she did then…

The boy was back.

"Oliver? What is it?" She asked emptily.

"Well…Uh…" Oliver stammered,

"If my father sees you he will…" She warned, but then the boy ran over to her and grasped her hands. They were warm and…comfortable?

"Myrtle, come with me! You can go outside now! You're not sick anymore!" He exclaimed, he looked concerned about her, a look that wasn't made up. This boy may be a bit messed up, but he was honest. She could tell that he meant what he was saying.

But that didn't mean that she was ready to accept it.

"I-I can't, Oliver. Just thinking about going out there gives me goose bumps…"

"Myrtle. Go on out and play Myrtle." A voice echoed into her room. She heard footsteps and then saw her father walk into her room. For the first time in months he looked…relaxed. His shoulders had dropped. He looked tired but…he was definitely relaxed.

"But. Father."

"Sweetheart. I'm so sorry." He apologised as he walked over to her and held her shoulders, there was something that looked like a tear forming in his eye, something she never thought she would see from her father, "I wasn't there when you were sick, when you needed me. And I was fighting with your mother the whole time. I guess maybe the thing that was keeping you closed up in here… maybe it was me."

"Father…"

"You were scared, somewhere deep down that if you went away your mother and I would lose the one thing keeping us together. That we… that we wouldn't be a family anymore. I'm right aren't I? That's why you… why you were… something deep inside you wouldn't let you leave the house."

"Father. I…" The two were now hugging. Both crying. Together. For the first time in the longest time Mrytle felt like her father was there with her. He wasn't angry. He was filled with love and was standing with her. Somewhere she felt a weight being taken off of her shoulders, and could hear the words that came from her Father's lips. Words she had imagined before so many times but never thought they would come.

"It's alright sweetheart. Your mother and I… It's going to be alright."

"Father." The two continued to embrace and everything from the past few months started to fade away. Every argument that she had overheard. Every heartache. Every anxiety. Everything sad was coming undone in the two's embrace.

"Please Mrytle. Please forgive me."

"Oh I do. Daddy I do."

Oliver was standing on the other side of the room. She couldn't see him, but he could hear his alternative accent coming out again, "Are those tears bunting?" "Huh? No they're not!" "So much for you being honest." She let out a small laugh and then broke the embrace with her father.

"Oliver."

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to try. I'm going to go outside. Will you come with me?"

"Myrtle."

He held out his hand to her. Myrtle took it and the two started to head downstairs, with her Dad in toll. When they reached downstairs Oliver let go and waited outside of the door with her Dad and her Mum, who were now embracing like nothing was ever wrong.

She took a deep breath in. She was exploding inside with what might happen, but now was the time. She slowly put her foot forwards and a beam of light fell upon it. She followed the foot and the light shone up her body and onto her face. It was blinding at first, but she adjusted quicker than she thought she could. She took one more step and now she was completely out of the shadow of the house. She could hear the excitement in her parents' voices and could see the grin on Oliver's face.

"Myrtle!" He exclaimed. She ran over to him and the two held hands and jumped up and down in a circle.

"I did it! Oliver, I did it! I'm outside! I'm outside!" She had finally done it. She felt fine, she didn't feel like she had to stay locked away any more, and it was all because of this boy.

Who then put on the ridiculous accent…

"Ahh, there's beautiful."

Her Dad was smiling and laughing with his mother, whose head was now leant against his shoulder. Myrtle was happy, everything seemed to be fixed. She didn't understand how, but somehow this ridiculous boy was involved.

"Oliver. Thank you so much!" It was then that she decided that she was going to be friends with this boy. That she was going to help him through his pain, just like he helped her. She was going to save him from his grief. She knew that she was probably going to have to do some ridiculous things, but she didn't mind. This boy had brought her and her family out into the light. This boy deserved someone to do the same.


End file.
